


Your Silent Reverie

by SideStepping



Series: Broken Keys (On Indefinite Hiatus) [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Multi, musical AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SideStepping/pseuds/SideStepping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The idea of settling down is one Merlin just can't accept - he's not willing to put people in danger like that, not after Paris ... and Will. Whilst Arthur battles the choices before him, it comes down to some sound advice from and old friend - he just doesn't want to regret his decisions later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Silent Reverie

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this took a long time, unfortunately exams have decided to ruin my life ... but here it is! 
> 
> My friend has been fairly busy lately so this part is pretty much un-beta'd however I've done my best to check for mistakes. 
> 
> The title is a quote from Sarah McLachlan's song Angel. 
> 
> WARNINGS: There is a fair bit of violence and a character death in a flashback in this part.
> 
> I have an LiveJournal account which I will be using for updates its anyone's interested ;) Be warned its not just updates and often me talking to myself .... hehe, yeah ... [Side_Steppings](http://side-steppings.livejournal.com/)

**~ ~ ~**

“Merlin …” Arthur gave Merlin a slightly quizzical look, obviously waiting for a last name.

Merlin swallowed hard. Giving away his identity was a bad idea at the best of times, but to a stranger? And yet … there was something about Arthur …

“Emrys, Merlin Emrys,” he said. Watching Arthur closely for any sign of recognition. There wasn't.

“Well, I won't bother introducing myself properly,” Arthur said nonchalantly, “you'll know who I am already.”

There was the briefest, most awkward of silences before Arthur frowned slightly. Merlin's breath caught in his throat as his took in Arthur's strong jaw bones and those bright, bright blue eyes – as blue as the ocean and yet … so much more blue.

He was startled out of his daydream state as Arthur gave a slight cough.

“You do know who I am, don't you?” he asked, still frowning.

“Er,” Merlin glanced sideways at Lance for support. “Should I?”

Lance covered a laugh and Gwen frowned but she was smiling. Merlin felt somehow like he was one the wrong end of joke.

“Meet Merlin, Arthur, the _least_ up to date person the world has ever known,” Lance replied, clapping a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin laughed awkwardly and there was another brief pause.

“So,” he said, “who … who are you?”

“Um, I'm a singer,” Arthur replied modestly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at the floor.

“Oh I could tell,” Merlin replied, “you're – you're voice. I could …” he stammered to a halt as Arthur looked up at him again. “You're good,” Merlin finished lamely.

“More than _good_ ,” Gwen snorted. Merlin noticed how her hand had twined itself round Lance's and their fingers were interlocked. “How long were you top of the charts?”

“Just a week or so,” Arthur replied but Merlin noticed how the modesty had gone from his tone and there was a lingering sense of arrogance.

“Clearly not long enough for me to hear about you,” Merlin replied – the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.

Arthur looked startled and then slightly put out. “I'm sorry?” he asked, an ever so slightly threatening sense entering his tone.

“Nothing,” Merlin replied hastily, catching sight of Lance who was fighting the urge to laugh.

Arthur raised a eyebrow. “Sorry Gwen,” he said, picking up his jacket form where it lay next to the piano, “I need to be going.”

“Oh Arthur, don't be stupid,” Gwen replied – she, like Lance, was having difficulty keeping her laughter back.

Arthur coughed awkwardly and avoided Merlin's eyes.

“Ah,” Lance said, jumping in to diffuse the tension, “is this the great and glorious musical?”

For a moment, Gwen's attention was diverted and Merlin and Arthur's gazes once again met. Merlin had the feeling that Arthur was sizing him up.

“So,” Arthur said slowly, “why are you in town? Staying with Lance right? How come I haven't met you before?”

Merlin cleared his throat. “I'm just staying for a short while,” he replied carefully, noting that Lance was listening, “and I've been travelling around a bit.”

“Oh, OK,” Arthur replied, “so, you just, didn't listen to the radio much on your travels.”

“You can't deal with the fact I haven't heard of you,” Merlin said, a smile creeping onto his face.

“No,” Arthur replied carefully, “I'm just surprised, that's all.”

It was now Merlin's turn to suppress a laugh. Arthur was really quite conceited.

“Here,” Arthur continued, pulling an iPod out of his jeans and passing one of the ear buds to Merlin.

“You have your own music on your iPod?” Merlin asked incredulously.

Arthur paused in unwinding the headphones. “And what if I do?” he asked, his tone affronted.

Merlin shrugged, biting back what he really wanted to say.

He told himself that he just wasn't used to interacting with people. For the past eight years the only people he'd talked to, _really_ talked to had been close friends or family. Socialising wasn't one of those things he was used to, or adept at doing. He almost needed a 'How To …' guide.

Arthur pocketed the iPod again and the two of them were left to awkwardly wait whilst Gwen and Lance continued to look through the musical.

“This is good,” Lance was saying, “very good. You are amazing you know.”

Gwen ducked her head shyly but her smile was hard to miss. “You could be in it,” she said.

“Oh come on Gwen,” Lance replied, “you know I can't sing for toffee.”

“What about your friend?” Gwen asked, turning to look at Merlin.

“Oh Merlin? Merlin can sing – can't you Merlin?” Lance's knowing smile made Merlin want to thump him. Lance, above all people, knew that Merlin couldn't get tied into anything here. Least of all a _musical_. “You used to belt out the top notes in assembly when we were kids. Head teacher was always proud of you're strong voice.” The sarcasm in Lance's tone, though light, was definitely there and Arthur gave a quiet snort of laughter. Gwen however, seemed to miss it.

“Top notes? Oh great because Arthur's no so good at those,” she blurted out.

It was Merlin's turn to laugh but as he looked towards Arthur, he discovered he was leaving.

“Your honesty, whilst a wonderful trait, Gwen, is perhaps a little indelicate,” he was saying, shrugging his arms into his jacket, “and as I've already said, I'm not taking part in your musical.”

He was gone without another word and he left a slightly stunned silence in his wake.

Gwen's smile had gone and she took the pages of her musical out of Lance's hands, not looking at anyone.

“I'll go after him,” Lance said, trying to sound casual but Merlin could hear the anger in his tone, “knock some sense into him.”

“No,” Merlin said suddenly, sticking out a hand to stall Lance. “Let me.”

**~ ~ ~**

Arthur headed down the street, walking fast, not looking back over his shoulder at Gwen's. Yes, he knew he'd been rude. He knew he'd been unfair on Gwen, but why didn't she, why didn't _anyone_ understand that he simply couldn't be in Gwen's musical?

It wasn't just that either. He'd first noticed it when he was singing with Gwen that day – but he guessed it had been coming on for weeks, since Morgause had gone to the papers – but he couldn't sing _quite_ as well as before. There was a strain on his voice, a catch in his throat when he tried to push himself. It wasn't much but it was enough for him to notice, for Gwen to notice and it worried him. He couldn't help but think, that if things went on as they were, that his voice might get worse.

The thought clawed at him. If he didn't have his voice, what did he have? He couldn't go back to his father – there would be no begging forgiveness there, no redemption. He'd shown his father that his singing was his life – and if he didn't have his singing, if he didn't have his voice, he had no life. He'd just fade out, be a nobody, a failed celebrity, a fallen star …

 _Cut it out_ , he told himself sharply – that's not going to happen.

And yet, to be honest with himself, he was getting to the point where he wouldn't mind – across the street he saw a young girl do a double-take and he ducked his head instinctively. At least nobodies didn't have their face all over the news twinned with bad tag lines and tabloid nicknames he'd rather not think about.

“Hey! Arthur!”

 _Not going to fall for that one_ , he thought to himself, and didn't look round.

“Arthur! Wait!” The voice sounded familiar but Arthur was too caught up in worrying about his voice to think about it. He carried on down the street, hands in pockets, head ducked inside his jacket.

He felt a hand on his arm and wrenched himself out of the person's grip, only to turn and discover it was Merlin.

“What the – oh, its you.” He turned away and carried on walking.

“Hey, you're just gonna walk out like that? Gwen's really hurt,” Merlin scampered to keep up with him and Arthur burrowed his head deeper into his jacket, angling his body to keep Merlin out.

“She seems so nice and you're gonna treat her like that?”

Arthur tried to tune Merlin out but the hard _truth_ in what Merlin was saying made it hard.

“Like, why _can't_ you be in her musical?”

Arthur came to a sudden stop, so sudden, Merlin bumped into him.

“Why don't you go find out?” he asked, his voice low and angry, “go ask Gwen and Lance, maybe Google search me, I'm sure you'll find everything you need to know. You don't know me so don't try and understand me and _get off my case_.”

He carried on walking before Merlin had a chance to respond and when he glanced back a moment later he was surprised to see Merlin hadn't followed him but was jogging back up the street to Gwen's house.

Arthur sighed to himself and carried on walking, pulling the hood of his jacket up against the cold. Winter was on its way, he could tell, and the cold wind seemed to bite and claw at him as he walked. He remembered grimly that he'd come up north to get away, to get some rest and already he'd only been here a few days and he was getting nothing of the sort. He felt a headache coming on and hurried his pace to get home.

The boxes of unpacked belongings in the hallway only added to his rapidly deteriorating mood and he shuffled his way into the kitchen, kicking a few boxes out of the way. He hadn't been sure how much to bring with him – he'd pretty much thrown his entire flat into boxes and then the boxes into the back of his car. This hadn't be well planned, he admitted to himself. Not at all.

A short while later, he found himself sprawled out on the sofa, an empty coffee cup on the floor next to him and a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the table in front of him. The headache was getting worse.

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to be in Gwen's musical – which was how everyone appeared to be taking it – it was that he _couldn't_ be. The shame of what Morgause's accusations had implied about him and the knowledge that everyone believed her, not him, meant that he couldn't get up on stage and sing. He couldn't perform. It was wrong – he felt ashamed and he'd done nothing wrong. He felt angry with Morgause and angry with the press for believing her and angry with his father for not doing more to help. Arthur guessed this was probably some sideways scheme of Uther's resulting in Arthur leaving his singing career behind and sinking into some desk job fully under Uther's command. But whilst Arthur had any say in the matter, that wasn't going to happen.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. The chiming did something to his headache and it was all Arthur could do not to toss the phone across the room to stop the dreadful thing ringing – permanently.

He'd never liked answering calls – all the way through his childhood if he'd picked up the phone it was always some cold toned voice asking for his father and in later years, some lucky fan who'd happened upon his number. Arthur had a shrewd suspicion Morgause was behind his number being leaked but he'd never managed to actually find the proof.

No, he didn't like answering the phone, and this was only amplified when his father's named showed up on the caller ID. He killed the call without a moment's thought. Uther Pendragon was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. The phone rang again and he didn't answer. It rang again and he turned it off. Let Uther ring. Arthur couldn't care less if that was what his father decided to waste his time on rather than running the country. It may be something important but the things Arthur counted as important and the things Uther did were far from alike.

The silence that followed the calls however, was rather too quiet and Arthur got out of his seat to put on some music.

He didn't like the quiet – he needed to have noise, to have music around him or he didn't feel properly comfortable. He didn't know when he'd first started feeling this way but it was either because of his growing love of music or the lack of music in his early years, all those long evenings eating in silence at the dinner table with his father. He sometimes almost felt afraid of the silence.

Taking his iPod out of his pocket he plugged it into the stereo and for a brief moment, a smile touched his lips as he remembered Merlin's comments from earlier. He guessed, having his own music on his iPod was a touch self-centred but it was just the original home-recordings he'd done before the album was produced properly and he used them as reference when he was writing new songs. Or at least, that was what he told himself.

As he scrolled down the list of options for music he noted once again how there was so little of any other artist's music. It was mainly classical, Mozart, Debussy and Beethoven. He found if he listened to any other _singing_ he'd find himself noting the strains in their voice or working out their vocal range and he never much enjoyed listening when he couldn't help but _think_ about the music. He'd study, analyse it – until he was sick of it.

At least with the orchestral recordings he had on his iPod, there was no singing for him to focus on and whilst he knew about orchestras and the different instruments, he wasn't exactly an expert – that was Gwen. Gwen had written orchestral scores and then Lance, who could play practically every orchestral instrument known to man, had recorded them with her. Arthur had been one of the _very_ select few who had been allowed to listen. Gwen, in all her musical brilliance, was probably the most modest person Arthur knew and no matter how hard he or Lance or anyone pushed her to release it she kept it private and would not be swayed. Modest she may be, but she was also downright stubborn.

It was one of reasons why he was so tied up over the musical. Gwen's sheer enthusiasm for it showed him how much she really cared. She'd not been like this over any of her other works and Arthur knew how special it was to her. That was what made it so hard to say no …

Thinking about the musical and Gwen reminded Arthur of his abrupt departure earlier that day he raised a hand to gently massage his temples as he felt the headache returning. And then there had been his conversation with Merlin afterwards – he had hardly been courteous, hardly acting in a way which would defend him considering the recent allegations in the papers and Merlin was a complete stranger!

He gave a frustrated sigh and set the songs on shuffle before collapsing back into the sofa, reaching for the glass of water. The first tune was something of Debussy's but he couldn't quite remember the name which annoyed him and he accounted to the headache.

His conversation with Merlin drifted into his head.

_Why don't you go find out? Go ask Gwen and Lance, maybe Google search me, I'm sure you'll find everything you need to know._

He wondered what Merlin would think … not that it mattered.

The next thing he knew, he had grabbed his laptop and was loading up the internet. Nothing wrong with following his own advice, he told himself, as he loaded Google and typed a name into the search bar.

_Merlin Emrys_

**~ ~ ~**

“He doesn't mean it Gwen – you and I both know he's going through a tough time.” Lance's voice was soft and from the tremble in Gwen's reply, Merlin guessed she had been crying.

“But he knows how much this means to me …”

Merlin lingered in Gwen's hallway feeling strangely on the outside of whatever was happening. Something was going on with Arthur, that much was obvious, but also with Gwen's musical, that was something he'd love to do. He loved to sing, especially when he was younger before he'd had to run. He'd sung in concerts at his school and taken the lead in more than one school musical. There was something about his voice, the teachers had said, it was almost magical. He'd thought it was funny, seen how far he could push his voice with his magic. But then people had started noticing. Talent spotters, local newspapers, singing coaches … it had been the beginning of the end. They'd moved, he'd changed schools and his dad … Balinor hadn't once shouted. He hadn't once raised his voice or shown Merlin how angry he was. He'd just been disappointed. Disappointed that Merlin hadn't listened. Disappointed that Merlin had put his secret and his life on the line all over a joke. A joke and a dream of singing.

He felt on the outside because no matter how much he'd love to be in the musical, to get to know Gwen, to settle down … no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't.

He walked slowly into the room to find Gwen hastily wiping away tears.

“Sorry,” he said hastily, “I'm not being very hospitable. Do either of you two want a drink or something?”

Lance glanced up at Merlin and from Lance's expression, Merlin knew exactly the problem.

Always on the outside …

“Um, sorry Gwen,” he blustered, “I can't stay … I've got something to do …” he finished lamely.

“That's fine Merlin,” Lance said, jumping in, “I'll see you later.”

Merlin turned and left, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he went. The growing sense that he ended to leave growing on him. Lance had enough to deal with and he was only going to get drawn into things here if he stayed. He'd stay a couple of days then say his goodbyes and get out of there. Leave. Before anyone else got hurt.

It was only as he reached Lance's door before he remembered he didn't have a key. For a moment he debated going back but then decided against it and stuffing his hands even deeper into his pockets and ducking his head down inside his jacket he set off down the street.

Lance's place was on the edge of town but there was still a fair amount of traffic going up and down the street. Although Merlin highly doubted they'd been able to track him here that quickly, he couldn't help but glance up and down for the black Audi. It didn't matter for the traffic and the people on the streets – it hadn't fazed _them_ when they'd caught up with him in Paris.

He'd lost Will and he owed Lance his life. He'd never forget that night.

**~**

“ _Merlin, we need to be going.”_

_Lance was jittery, glancing at his watch every other minute and not touching his drink. Will however, was the complete opposite and drowned his glass in one whilst eyeing-up a girl at the bar._

“ _Relax a little Lance,” he said, waving a hand in Lance's vague direction. “They're not going to try anything here. Anyway, this is the first decent night out we've had in weeks.”_

“ _Yeah and there's a reason for that,” Lance replied through gritted teeth._

“ _Leave it Lance,” Merlin pressed quietly, “he's been acting like a caged tiger for days now. We'll leave soon and get on our way tomorrow. I_ promise. _”_

_Only half satisfied, Lance dropped back in his seat and checked his phone for want of something to do._

_Merlin cradled his beer in his hands. Enjoying, of only briefly, the noise and rowdiness of the bar. The normality of it all._

_Will turned back to the table with a sigh as another man made his way up to the girl and snaked his arm round her waist._

“ _Bad luck,” Merlin said and he half meant it. Will didn't deserve everything he was getting with Merlin – always on the move, always hiding. Will hated it but he stayed for Merlin. For that, Merlin couldn't be thankful enough._

“ _Can we go now?” Lance asked, trying not to show his irritation at how laid back Merlin and Will were._

“ _I suppose we should,”Will said, downing the rest of his drink in one and reaching for his coat._

_Merlin sighed inwardly and picked his backpack up from the floor. He didn't bother to finish his beer as he followed Will out of the bar, Lance bringing up the rear._

_Considering how much he'd had to drink, Will was extremely alert as he led the way down the street. Merlin always envied Will for how well he could handle his drink and to be honest he'd never been more thankful of anything in his life as at that moment the signature black Audi rounded the corner at the end of the street and all around them, the night exploded with gunfire._

“ _Run Merlin RUN!”_

_Will was shoving him back along the road before Merlin's instincts had even kicked in. Lance grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and dragged him along until Merlin came to his senses and began to run. It was only once they were five blocks away did he realise Will was no longer with them._

“ _Will!” he gasped in shock, rounding on his heels to go back the way the had come. Lance however, grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him back._

“ _You can't go back Merlin,” Lance said, pushing Merlin up against a wall to get him to listen. “It's too dangerous._

“ _Will …” Merlin begged weakly. Lance knew how much Will meant to Merlin – meant to the both of them. Surely he wouldn't give up on a friend? That wasn't what this was about._

“ _He knew what he was doing,” Lance replied gruffly, releasing Merlin and looking back down the road. It was empty and Merlin saw the hope drop from Lance's eyes. Saw him curse himself for ever hoping in the first place._

“ _Lance … he's my friend. I don't care about myself, I can't left him die for me.” Merlin pleaded with Lance but Lance wasn't listening._

“ _He's doing this for you,” Lance said firmly._

“ _Yeah, and I can't let him!” Merlin insisted._

 _Fear, confusion but above all_ anger _coursed through his veins and his magic ignited like fire. The air almost crackled with the energy._

“ _Merlin,” Lance said, fear blossoming in his tone in a way that it only ever had when he'd first discovered Merlin's secret, back in the street that day. “Calm down.”_

“ _We need to go back,” Merlin said, his voice pitched low and thrumming with the power of his magic._

“ _We can't,” Lance said, grabbing Merlin's shoulder once again to drag him along._

_Merlin acted without thinking – and the bright gold flash of magic lashed out, catching Lance across the chest and hurling backwards._

“ _Why are you trying to stop me?” he yelled._

_Lance crumpled to the ground some way away, gasping for the breath that had been stolen from him and gazing at Merlin with a look that betrayed fear, astonishment but also sadness and … was that guilt?_

_Lance was not the one who should be feeling guilty._

_A force seemed to tighten around Merlin's chest and throat and made it hard to breathe. The weight of his guilt madeMerlin stumble slightly; looking – reaching – for Lance with pleading eyes._

_That was the day Merlin realised what his lifestyle could do to him – was doing to him._

**~**

He reached the main street of town and something caught his eye. The owner of a newsagents was just stacking some new papers outside his shop. The front page grabbed his attention and, crossing the streets to the newsagents, he picked up a copy to make sure.

Plastered across the first page was a photo of Arthur, _the_ Arthur he'd just met back in Gwen's house. For a moment he found it hard to understand what the page in front of him was saying.

_**ONLY THE GUILTY WILL HIDE** _

_Arthur Pendragon has not been seen for some time now leading to questions over whether the pop-star is as innocent as he claims. After hastily denying any of the accusations made by his former agent Mogause Orcades and sliding out of legal procedures – the chart topper has now slipped out of the public eye and is presumably keeping a low profile. Which begs the question – why? If he is innocent, is there any need to hide? Our correspondent Sefa Jones looks into the matter also covering the relationship between father and son and why MP Uther Pendragon appears to be keeping quiet on the matter. Cont. pg 3_

Merlin dropped the paper back on top of the pile, confusion clouding his thoughts. What accusations? What could this Arthur have done that was so bad?

A second later he was shaking his head, quietly laughing to himself. Why was he bothered? Did it matter what some infamous celebrity had been getting up to? And anyway – Arthur was clearly a face out in the public view, yet another reason not to hang around here too long.

Feeling like it was becoming something of a slogan for his life, Merlin reminded himself yet again _not to get involved_.

**~**

_Lance eventually got to his feet and Merlin made to step forward and help him up but then stopped himself as Lance held a hand out to keep him away._

“ _Lance …” he began but tailed off as a lump got stuck in his throat._

_Lance shook his head firmly, getting off up the ground and taking the smallest of steps back._

“ _Don't say … you're sorry,” he said, still fighting to get his breath back. “I know … I know why you're angry.”_

“ _I shouldn't have done that,” Merlin said. The adrenaline rush that had thrown his magic out of control died back and his magic settled once again back around him. He ached, but not just from physical pain._

“ _We should be moving,” Lance said gruffly but Merlin noticed how he avoided Merlin's eyes in a show of looking up and down the street. He didn't need to, it was obvious they were alone._

“ _We'll get to Gare du Nord and get the first train out of here tomorrow morning – we should get back to England.” Lance spoke quickly, already beginning to walk away. Merlin hurried to catch up._

“ _What if they're watching the station?” he asked, debating how to talk Lance into going back for Will._

“ _We'll get to the coast and find a boat or something,” Lance replied. Merlin noticed how Lance was walking with a slight limp in his step and a dull throb of guilt pounded in his stomach._

_At that moment, several things happened very quickly. Lance turned to face Merlin as if he was about to say something but Merlin had stopped, feeling suddenly overcome with fatigue and light-headed. Then the black car rounded the end of the street._

_He couldn't move, could barely even breathe – the effort to even keep his eyes open was far to great and his legs gave way underneath him. The street wavered in front of him._

_Lance knelt down in front of him and was saying something Merlin couldn't hear. He saw how Lance shifted his body to protect him from whatever was coming for the car. Merlin tried to stop him. Not another friend …_

_Three people climbed from the car. One hooded and swathed in black leather, his boots making dull thudding sounds on the road as he advanced towards Merlin. The next man wore clothes not dissimilar to those of Merlin and Lancelot's – baggy jeans and a red hoodie. He wasn't hooded and a scar stretched across the left side of his face. The last man was Will._

_His clothes were torn and blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes met Merlin's and he mouthed a word – 'Run.' But Merlin couldn't even stand. He mentally shook himself to maintain consciousness and he focussed a little, enough to hear the hooded man talking._

“ _Ah yes,” he said, his voice slick and oiled but English, “I was wondering when it would take affect. If you hadn't realised, I took the liberty of spicing up your drink a little.”_

_Lance cursed softly under his breath._

“ _Impressive I must say,” the hooded man continued, walking steadily towards Merlin, “evading us for so long. The again, some of the credit must go to your friends. This one here tried to convince us he had magic.” His tone was mocking and Merlin saw Will's shoulders slump in defeat._

“ _Why … why do … you want … me?” Merlin forced out._

_The hooded man laughed but did not respond._

“ _Get him in the car,” he ordered the other man, jerking his head at Merlin._

“ _No.” Lance took a step forward, within touching distance of the hooded man. “Go to hell.”_

_Merlin watched the scene as if in slow motion. Lance lunged forward in a punch and Will twisted round to kick the other man in the stomach. The hooded man dodged Lance's punch and caught Lance's arm and twisted it round behind his back, breaking it in one swift, fluid movement. Lance's cry of pain tore at Merlin's consciousness as everything slowly began to go dark._

_In the bare second that followed, Merlin's magic exploded._

**~**

The park bench was just that. A park bench. Normal. Hard. Brown. The paint peeling at the edges and the metal support rusting through. The path was straight, stretching from one end of the public gardens to the other, small, young trees growing at its side and benches set randomly between the trees. Merlin couldn't quite comprehend it. Here he was, sat on a bench watching pigeons fight over a scrap of bread. Children running down the path ahead of their parents as another school day came to an end. Cars driving past of the road beyond the iron railings ringing the park. A stray cat rolling in a pile of Autumn leaves.

It almost didn't seem real.

**~ ~ ~**

Nothing.

Not one single search result on Merlin Emrys, well, nothing worth looking at anyway. According to the internet, the man didn't exist and Arthur, more than anyone, knew what a hard feat that was to achieve. He exhaled slowly and debated for a brief second why he was doing this … who was this Merlin anyway? Clearly no one. So why was he interested?

He loaded his email and scrolled through, ignoring several he'd received from his father until he came across a message with no body and a few words in the subject line.

 _ **TURN ON YOUR PHONE!!!**_ The sender surprised him somewhat as he hadn't seen or talked to her in some time but that didn't mean he was any less pleased to hear from her. Apprehensive, especially considering his current situation but pleased nonetheless.

He reached for his phone, turning it on and waiting for his messages to show. The eighteen missed calls from his father caught his attention for a brief moment but he wasn't under any doubt that Uther knew where he was, even though he hadn't bothered to tell his father where he was going. Uther probably had had him followed. If something was that serious, Uther could come and find him. After scrolling through numerous messages form his father, asking him to ring immediately he found the one he was looking for and loaded up a text. Mithian Nemeth was a good friend of his, had been for a while, and she was the one and only member of the media to be so graced with his contact details. When Mithian had gone into journalism after university, she'd become a big part in Arthur's publicising and getting him the attention he needed. She'd always been at his side, ready to publish the truth and only the truth as it came out of Arthur's mouth. He hadn't been in contact with her for a while because she'd been abroad spending time with her dad in Switzerland and this was the first he'd talked to her since the Morgause debacle.

_Need to talk? I'm in the park in town – thought it was time we caught up. And before you ask, Gwen told me where you were! I think we need to get one or two things sorted out :)_

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Mithian was someone who could be equally terrifying and sweet in the space of a few sentences. Woe to him if he denied her a chance to meet. If he was honest with himself, he needed to get a few things off his chest but, he just didn't know if he was ready to.

Having nothing better to do, he got up off the couch, turned off his music and reached for his jacket. For nothing better than someone to talk to he left his house and made the ten minute walk through town to the park. Any attention he did receive was nothing more than the odd second glance or someone trying to approach him before he abruptly sped up. Mithian was waiting for him at one of the gates to the park and offered him a take-away coffee as he came up to her. After the initial greetings and catch up, giving the topic of Morgause a wide berth, Mithian gestured down the path.

“Walk and talk?” she suggested. With a sigh and preparing himself for the worst, Arthur agreed.

“There's been a lot of talk about you recently Arthur,” Mithian said as they walked.

“Oh really? I hadn't noticed,” Arthur replied dryly.

“Was it really the best idea? To come all the way up here?” Mithian asked.

Arthur was silent for a moment. “I needed to get away,” he conceded quietly.

“Don't blame you,” Mithian responded.

Arthur gave a soft snort. “A lot of people do.”

“They don't know the truth,” Mithian said.

“You believe me?” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrow sceptically.

“Give me more credit than that Arthur! Do you really think I'd take anything that cow Morgause said seriously?”

Arthur smothered a smile. Mithian's words comforted him though – one more person who believed him.

“So, what is the story I shoulder tell the readers Arthur?” Mithian asked, a small smile curling at her lips. “Are you the wrongly accused?”

“Your editor's been nagging you again hasn't he?” Arthur asked.

“He's been wanting the story even since Morgause made the accusations. I fended him off for a while, told him to give you space, and me to be honest. He's been breathing down my neck ever since he found out I knew you. But he's persistent and Gwen got in touch. People need to know the truth Arthur. You can't just seal yourself up and pretend none of this has happened. You need your side of the story out there, some positive publicity.” Mithian paused for a moment then, “I hear Gwen's written a musical.”

“Oh not you too,” Arthur groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands.

“Gwen said you were being difficult,” Mithian replied.

“Go on then, give me some reasons as to why I should do it and I'll give you mine as to why not.”

“Alright,” Mithian said and Arthur could hear her building the attack in her mind. “One, you should do this for Gwen. And don't try backing out of that one, you owe her. Two, you're a singer Arthur, you should be singing and don't pretend you wouldn't be brilliant on stage. Three,” Mithian paused for breath but held up a finger to hold back Arthur's retort, “the public need to see you doing something good. Positive publicity. Get yourself out there and show everyone you don't care what the tabloids are saying because _it's not true_. You're not going to improve anything by hiding in the dark.”

Arthur drank the last of his coffee for want of something to do and then tossed the cup into a rubbish bin as they passed.

“You know I'm right,” Mithian said and Arthur could hear the smugness in her tone.

“I can't do it Mithian,” he said eventually, and he hoped she would hear the sincerity in his voice because he'd got to the point where he just _couldn't_ any more.

“Why not?” Mithian retorted, still on the attack.

Arthur rubbed his forehead, sensing the headache returning.

“I can't sing anymore,” he said, his voice soft.

“Stopping singing isn't going to help that,” Mithian responded.

They'd reached the centre of the park, a circular area or gravel with a fountain in the centre. Trees ringed the edge of the gravel and four separate paths branched off to different ends of the park. Autumn leaves chased each other along the ground in the breeze. Arthur gazed into the distance, his mind twirling with the choices he could make but knowing there was only one he would.

“Say I did do the musical …” he began slowly and he saw Mithian smile. She knew she'd already won. “You'd be publicising it? I want it to be good for Gwen.”

“I'll have my whole team on it,” Mithian promised.

“And you're not going to back down until I do agree to do it right?” Arthur asked.

“My editor wants a story,” Mithian said, shrugging lightly. “It's either this or I write up a romantic interest for you.”

Arthur's snort of laughter was louder than he intended. Mithian gave him a knowing smile.

“You're giving me no choice,” he said, shaking his head dismally.

“So that's a yes?” Mithian asked, the excitement plain in her voice.

“I suppose so,” Arthur sighed, hoping he wouldn't live to regret this decision.

Mithian beamed. “Brilliant!” she exclaimed.

Arthur bowed his head, hiding a smile. Mithian's excitement was contagious.

At that moment, Mithian's phone chimed a text and once she'd read it, her face fell.

“I have to go,” she moaned, “I promised a friend I'd meet up with her – haven't seen her in ages. But text and call me every now and then to tell me how its going and I'm sure I'll be back up here as soon as rehearsals get rolling.”

Arthur smiled again. “Sure, you better get going.”

Mithian gave him a brief hug and then turned and walked away. At the last moment, Arthur called out to her.  
“Mithian!”

She turned and he smiled.

“Thanks for everything.”

She too smiled. “No problem.”

Arthur watched her go and then stuffed his hands into his pockets, idly kicking stone about as he thought through the last few minutes of conversation. Oddly, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He guessed he'd know all along that he should do the musical. Part of him couldn't wait to tell Gwen. The rest of him knew he needed to apologise as well.

As he set off along one of the paths to the edge of the park, he caught sight of a familiar figure sat alone on a bench.

There was another apology he needed to make.

**~ ~ ~**

_For a long while, all Merlin could register was silence. Silence and darkness. Then, a faint ringing started up in his ears and as he came back to consciousness the ringing grew louder. He shook his headed a couple of times, trying to clear it, and opened his eyes. Then he wished he hadn't._

_The car that had carried Will and the two other men was lying on its side,the metal buckled and twisted and the glass shattered into a million tiny shards. The thug who had had hold of Will was partly under the car, partly not and sickness roared up Merlin's throat, filling his mouth with a vile taste. The hooded man who had attacked Lance was lying on the ground, his hood still covering his face but even though the man was unconscious, Merlin didn't dare go and see the face of his enemy._

_Lance had crumpled to the ground where Merlin had last seen him. His arm was bent all wrong and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Will was next to the car, seemingly unharmed, just unconscious._

_Merlin fell to his knees, his eyes roving over the scene with a cold, dead feeling settling in his heart. Had he really done all this?_

_Lance moved all at once, rolling over onto his side with a muffled cry of pain. Merlin stumbled to his aid. Reaching out to help Lance but his hands stopping just shy, unsure of how to help. Cradling his broken arm close to him, Lance slowly pushed himself onto his knees, taking a moment to look around. Then he looked at Merlin._

“ _What did you do?” he asked hoarsely._

_Merlin shook his head numbly. Words would not come._

_The silence that stretched between them was broken by a quiet moan from Will. Lance staggered to his feet to get to Will's side and Merlin followed him, his lucidity returning and with it, the horror of what he had done. He'd killed someone. That man who was lying not four feet away from him now, concealed under the twisted remains of the car._

_Lance crouched down beside Will and gently rolled him over._

“ _No,” Will gasped softly. “That hurts.”_

_Merlin looked at Will's side where his hand was pressed firmly over something Merlin couldn't see._

_Merlin could see Will rapidly losing consciousness again and Lance bent nearer._

“ _Will, mate, are you hurt?”_

_Will didn't respond and slowly, Lance teased his fingers away from whatever he was concealing. Merlin reeled in shock at the short, sharp blade protruding from just under Will's ribs._

“ _Will. Will!” Lance was shaking him now, trying to bring his friend back. Merlin was numb. He'd seen this moment too many times in movies. When the person lost consciousness … and didn't wake up._

_Will's eyes fluttered briefly. Merlin dropped to one knee, desperate to do something to help his friend._

“ _Don't worry, Merlin, I'm fine … I'm fine.” Will said, waving his hand limply._

“ _Will, you've got to stay awake,” Lance said, his tone sharp with desperation._

_Will's hand landed on Merlin's arm and Merlin covered it with his own._

“ _Don't give up on me,” Merlin forced out through the tears._

“ _Who's giving up?” Will asked, his voice affronted but brittle the smallest of smiles on his face._

“ _Not me,”Merlin responded._

“ _Good.”_

_Somehow, time seemed to slow down and Merlin almost watched the life fade from Will's eyes._

“ _No. No. Will! WILL!!”_

**~**

“Hey.”

Merlin drew himself out of that dark Parisian street with a jolt. The world of sunlight, trees and pigeons almost blinding him for a moment – two worlds which didn't fit, colliding in his mind.

It took him a moment to notice Arthur.

“Oh … hi.” His voice was rough and he rapidly had to force back the tears which had been dancing in his eyes.

“This seat taken?” Arthur asked, indicating the end of the bench next to Merlin.

“No,” Merlin replied.

Arthur dropped down into the seat, for a moment seemingly lost in thought, staring at a pigeon wandering up the path.

Merlin surreptitiously rubbed the moisture out of his eyes.

“I need to apologise,” Arthur said suddenly. “For earlier, I, shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”

It took Merlin a long while to register what Arthur was saying and what he was talking about.

“Oh, no problem …” he replied vaguely, his brain still ticking through the functions. Then things clicked into place.

“So, what's made you so infamous then? Something about an agent and your father …” Merlin left the question hanging whilst Arthur sighed and placed his face in his hands.

“How did you find out?” he asked.

“Oh I just saw a paper,” Merlin replied, “I don't actually know what you're being accused of.”

“I haven't done anything,” Arthur replied, rubbing his face in his hands and clearing his throat loudly.

“Right …” Merlin paused, waiting for more.

“My agent Morgause and I had a row, pretty serious one, and to get her own back she went to the papers with some rather … _interesting_ stories,” Arthur replied and Merlin could hear in his tone, the voice of a man who was really _sick_ of the world.

You're not the only one mate, Merlin thought.

“But you .. didn't do anything right?” Merlin asked.

Arthur snorted. “It doesn't matter. Everyone thinks I did.” He shrugged. “I'm just so sick of it all now.”

“Don't blame you,” Merlin said. Part of him sympathised with Arthur – it must be difficult being out in the public eye and accused of things he hadn't done. But another part of him reminded himself how Arthur's problems weren't anyway near as big as his own.

“I'm doing the musical,” Arthur said, breaking the silence which had stretched between them. Merlin wondered briefly why he was still there, still talking, but perhaps it was good. The talking kept other things at bay.

“Right … what made you change your mind?” he asked.

“Oh a friend,” Arthur replied carelessly.

The silence stretched again.

“So can you sing or was Lance making that up?” Arthur asked and Merlin was surprised to hear genuine interest in Arthur's tone.

“I can sing,” he replied, “I used to more but … I don't as much now.”

“How long have you know Lance?” Arthur asked.

“Since we were kids,” Merlin replied, the words tumbling out of his mouth without him thinking about them much, “we grew up together.” He wondered why he was telling Arthur this. It was meant to be his life rule, don't reveal too much about yourself. He didn't know Arthur at all … but still, felt strangely … relaxed in his presence.

“So why has Lance never mentioned you.”

“Oh I moved around too much,” Merlin replied evasively, “haven't been in touch with Lance for a while.”

 _Because we were attacked in Paris by some guys and I almost killed Lance and then watched my friend die and killed someone else and, oh yeah, I'm a sorcerer. Like Harry Potter but without the wand._ Merlin finished the sentence in his head and realised how ridiculous he sounded. How strange it felt to think about things like that in this sunny park just after home-time. In this place where magic wasn't supposed to exist.

“So why don't _you_ want to be part of the musical?” Arthur asked and Merlin felt the smallest flare of irritation. Couldn't Arthur just leave him be.

“Oh I'm leaving soon, I'm not staying with Lance for long,” he responded, already getting to his feet. “Sorry,” he added, seeing how abrupt his departure must seem. “I need to be going.”

“Oh, right,” Arthur said, taken aback. “See you around.”

“Sure.”

Merlin walked off, hands stuffed in pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold. He could sense Arthur's gaze on his back but he kept walking. He guessed Arthur meant nothing of it, just friendly conversation between two people – no harm in that. But Merlin had been alone for so along, he just didn't interact with other people, didn't know how to.

One small thing flitted into his mind as he walked. He hadn't even debated pickpocketing Arthur. And Arthur was obviously rich. But no, the thought hadn't once entered his mind. Arthur was different, he told himself. How? He couldn't quite say. But Arthur was more than just a stranger on a street. A woman on a train. The sickening thought of Sophia was one he quickly banished. She must be long gone by now – off to Europe for whatever reason and he'd seen nothing of _them_ since he arrived.

But that wouldn't last for long. It _couldn't_. He just knew it.

**~ ~ ~**

Taken aback by Merlin's abrupt departure, Arthur sat on the bench for a moment before he realised it was pointless sitting there anymore and he might as well be on his way to talk to Gwen.

He wished he knew what he was doing was right.

On the walk back from town to Gwen's he thought for a long time about what he should be doing. Somehow, he'd come to the conclusion that the musical was the only option now. He'd be letting Gwen down, be letting Mithian down, be letting himself down. He might even enjoy it, he thought wryly, and as he walked, he felt his spirits lifting.

His good mood was almost immediately shattered however as he passed a newsagents and spotted his own face staring back at him from the front cover, coupled with one of his father.

_**MP UTHER PENDRAGON DENIES INVOLVEMENT IN HIS SON'S DISAPPEARANCE FROM PUBLIC EYE** _

_In a private interview today, MP Uther Pendragon denied any part in his son's withdrawal from public scrutiny however, is the political dragon keeping something back? As new information come to light, we must begin to wonder if Pendragon himself played a part in his son's fall from grace and a source from inside the family reveals how the relationship between father and son is never more than tenuous at best. Cont. pg 6_

Well, at least it sounded like the attention was being taken away from Arthur. It almost sounded as if the paper was admitting Arthur's innocence if they were looking into his father's involvement. At least he now knew why Uther had been so set at getting in touch. He also wondered who the 'source from inside his family' was. A brave one, that must be said. Whoever it was must now be sealed inside a nuclear bunker to avoid Uther's wrath.

With a heavy heart, he set off again, thinking that he'd have to call his father tonight or risk a personal call. He shuddered at the thought.

As he reached Gwen's he met Lance coming out of his house.

“Have you seen Merlin?” Lance asked, his tone worried.

“He was in the park,” Arthur replied.

“How long ago did you see him?” Lance asked, already turning to jog down the hill into town.

“About ten minutes or so, why? Is something wrong?”

“Doesn't matter,” Lance responded distractedly. He was gone across the road before Arthur had time to speak again. Arthur frowned. Why was Lance so worried? What was it about merlin that didn't quite … fit?

He had to turn his mind to other matters however and after knocking on Gwen's door, he entered, hoping she wouldn't be too angry. She did have right to be.

As he entered, he heard her playing the piano again, a soft, heartbreaking melody which swept up and down the octaves like the sea rolling in to shore. He paused for a moment to compose himself, captivated by the music.

When he felt he'd really been standing in the hallway too long, he cautiously approached the door to the kitchen. Gwen hadn't heard the door and she didn't notice him as he stepped up to the piano, reading the sheet music over her shoulder. He leaned forward tentatively to read some of the lyrics and she realised he was there, jumping in shock.

“Arthur! I didn't notice you there …” her voice tailed off and Arthur sensed her remembering their earlier conversation.

“Um, yeah … I came to apologise and … and to say I want … I want to do the musical. Like, be in it, if that's what you want,” he stammered out his words, watching her face hopefully for a positive reaction.

Gwen's face transported itself from downcast to overjoyed in a heartbeat.

“You'll do it?” she squeaked, her eyes alive with happiness.

“That's what I said,” Arthur replied.

Gwen leapt up and hugged him. “Thank you!” she gasped.

“You've got Mithian to thank,” Arthur admitted as they broke apart.

“I knew getting her up here would work,” Gwen grinned.

“You planned this?” Arthur asked, but he was smiling as he said it, Gwen's mood infecting his mood and lifting his low spirits.

Gwen's smile fell to a serious look. “Thank _you_ though,” she said, “I know you've been worried about this.”

“You're just so darn persistent,” Arthur replied and Gwen smiled.

“There's so much to do though,” she said suddenly, breaking away and scooping up the pages of sheet music, “I need to get this printed out in the separate parts and find a place to perform and we need a cast! We'll run auditions and … oh this is going to be fabulous!”

Gwen's method to contain her excitement seemed to be to sit right back down and play again and Arthur followed the music over her shoulder – picking up the plot and how each of the character's interacted and feeling thoroughly happier than he had done in a long time.

**~ ~ ~**

Merlin walked round the corner and collided with a very frantic Lance.

“Merlin!” Lance exclaimed, half angry, half relieved. “Where did you go? You said you were coming back to mine, I thought … I thought …” Lance tailed off and seemed to collect himself.

Merlin waited patiently but wasn't that bothered. He'd heard it all before.

“You should have told me Merlin, I was worried for a moment.”

“I went for a walk,” Merlin replied tightly, keeping his emotions behind his teeth, “needed to get some things off my mind. And I didn't have a key to your place.” He shrugged non-committally. “I'm fine Lance, no need to worry.”

“Yeah, right.”

Merlin started walking again and Lance spun round, hurrying to catch up.

“Here, have my spare key,” he said, pulling one from his pocket. Merlin took it unwillingly, thinking about how much this key signified.

“You do understand I can't stay here for long Lance,” Merlin said quietly, making sure lance heard the sincerity in his voice, “just until I feel ready to move on.”

Lance was quiet for a moment.

“You don't get it do you?” he said eventually, “I want to help. If they come for you I'll be here to protect you. Nothing you say can change that for me.”

“Yeah well, maybe I don't need your help,” Merlin snapped irritably. Immediately he regretted his words.

“Lance, I'm sorry …”

“No,” Lance responded, anger for once, plain in his voice, “no it's fine. Get back to me once you've finished fending for yourself.”

He turned his back on Merlin and headed off up the street, crossing the busy lanes of traffic. He didn't look back and Merlin was left feeling so very weighed down. The key in his hand seemed to burn into his skin.

He walked slowly up the street after Lance, in no hurry to get back but where else did he have to go? He'd have to apologise to Lance, then he'd leave. He was sure of it now. There was no way he could stay here.

He was so lost in his thoughts, as he rounded the corner at the end of Lance's street, he once again bumped into someone. The woman, squeaked in surprise and dropping the stack of papers she was carrying, the topmost sheets getting caught in the wind and scattered.

Merlin hastened to pick up the pages, apologising as he did so and darting to get them all before they were swept too far by the wind. The woman was picking up her stack and brushing her dark hair out of her face. Her jade green eyes met Merlin's and she nodded her head in thanks as he handed her back the last of the papers.

“Sorry for that,” Merlin said, gesturing at where the papers had gone.

“No problem,” she replied, adjusting the papers and tugging them close to her, “I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Me too!” Merlin said, “I was thinking about stuff and yeah … well, I think we got them all.” He canned the road but couldn't see any more paper and she nodded her agreement.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and after the briefest of awkward pauses she dodged past Merlin and on down the street. As she passed him, her shoulder brushed his and Merlin felt the strangest of tingling sensations run down his spine. His breath caught in his throat and he watched the woman all the way down the street. He knew that sensation, knew what it meant … she had magic.

She didn't look back as she walked, her head buried down inside her scarf and pulling her jacket closer around her. Merlin was left stranded, so shocked by the fact this was the second sorcerer he'd run into in two days. Was she with _them_? Did she know who he was? Did she even know she had magic.

With no other way to go, he headed back to Lance's, his mind in a swirling mess as he thought about the woman and who she might be.

Just as he was crossing the road to Lance's he spotted a stray piece of paper in the gutter and picking it up he saw it was one of hers with her picture printed in the top corner and various details about her.

_Morgana Lefay_

He looked back down the street but she was well out of sight. Pocketing the piece of paper, he crossed the road to Lance's, pulling Lance's spare key out of his pocket as he did it.

As he went inside, he had the strangest feeling he would be staying with Lance for longer, at least for a little while …

**~ ~ ~**

 


End file.
